Time passes but feelings remain
by Sahara Dickens
Summary: 24 years later, Peeta and Katniss' daughter is a teenager. Old enough to know about it all; there is just not as much talk about this one person; Gale Hawthorne. One day while musing on her parents' experiences, there's a knock on the door. Guess who?
1. Chapter 1

**If you have not read _Mockingjay_, I strongly advise you not to read this, so - spoileralert!**  
**I was not happy with the way _Mockingjay _ended so I decided to write my own ending.**  
**Note that this happens _after _the book so everything that happens still happens.**  
**It's just a way to assure myself that if Collins decides to do a fourth book; this writing is a possibility.  
Or something like it at least.**

_**Enjoy,**_

A few days after my 15th birthday, my parents told me _everything _about their unwilling participation in the Hunger Games and the aftermath; the berries, the Quarter Quell, the Mockingjay, the Rebellion. Of course, the Games were no mystery to me – it's no mystery to anyone in any district. The wounds are still fresh and I don't think wounds that deep can fully heal. I don't think there's anything time can do. And if they somehow do heal, I think ugly scars will be left in their wake.  
My parents' scars have still not healed, despite the time that has passed since the Games – and I know now that they never will. That my parents were in the Games is something I already know. There is no way they could have kept _that _away from me. Their names are in the history books and on everyone's lips. It's just that, before they told me, I didn't know how the Games ended. Why they ended. I knew with absolute certainty that they had played a role in it - they seemed too shady about it when I asked to not have been - I just didn't know how big or small those roles were.  
So that left me with unnumberable questions - what can their nightmares possibly contain for them to wake up screaming in the middle of the night? Why does mom lean against the kitchen counter and stare at the kitchen table until tears start streaming down her face and I have to comfort her without knowing what caused her tears in the first place? Why is it so hard for mom to tear her eyes away from the primrose bushes in the yard? Why does dad have burn marks on his face? Why are there patches on mom's head that won't grow hair?  
And then at last – what's the source to my parents' courage? What is it that brings them to take a kitchen knife and go out in the middle of the night to inspect the strange sound that scared me or my little brother, instead of just doing what normal people do; lock the doors and stay put?

That day I got my answers to every question. But it's a fact well known that answers tend to rise questions on their own.  
I read the book they made. I read about Rue and Finnick, about Boggs and Snow – there was also ever minor detail of how my mother felt and what she thought when she shot Coin.  
Everything was in that book; another question I had was who the father of aunt Annie's son, Finnick was. Apparently, Finnick. Well, you know, he's named after his father. Finnick the father was a lively guy who loved to flirt, according to mom, and he was very handsome. I saw the portrait my dad drew of him and then the picture of him standing next to a smiling Annie on their wedding day. He was definitely good-looking.  
But besides his looks and his flirtatious ways, he was brave and he "always faced challenges head on".

There are days when I wish I could meet him and all the others and this… rage would rise at the fact that Snow stole that chance away from me.  
Maybe other hands killed Finnick and Rue and Cinna but you've got to ask yourself; if Snow hadn't ordered them to – would any of it happened? There is always of course a possibility – but I choose to believe; not likely.  
He's the reason that meeting dad's parents is impossible, the reason I've only seen Grandma a few times – the reason I will never meet my mother's younger sister Prim, have a real aunt.  
I exhale in attempt to stop the familiar rage that's creeping towards my chest.  
It doesn't really help, but I do what I can do.

I try to sort it out, sometimes – why did Snow do it? How could he bring himself to do it? What was his motivation? Power? Blood- lust? Like always, I'm left with so many questions I have to take a deep breath to sort all my thoughts out. Sometimes I do what mom used to during the time she was mentally disoriented after her second Games.  
_My name is Ignis. I am fifteen years old. I like to hunt and paint. I have a younger brother who's twelve. Both my parents participated in the Hunger Games and they both made it out alive._ And then I continue on with whatever is making my head spin.

I was up an entire night watching the Games mom and dad were in – I cried when mom sang to Rue at the brink of her death, I saw how she left dad and to get him his survival in a bottle and I closed my eyes at the kisses and way too intimate hugs shared between mom and dad. I also realized how much I looked like mom when she was younger.  
And finally I watched when they both were the last survivors; stretching out their hands to show the pretty, round deaths tucked in there. The countdown and the panicked shout when the berries reached their mouths.  
After seeing the tape, I locked myself up in my bedroom – it was simply too much to take in. So much death and pain – for what? I heard the roars during the interviews with Caesar just before the Games started; the excited shouts, the prettily decorated cut- out cardboards with _We love you, Peeta!_ written on them. How could they be so joyful when the deaths of 23 children were certain?

Watching the other tape of the Quarter Quell; this time, dad told me, he took Haymitch's place just like mom took Prim's when her name was had been called.  
This time I viewed not only my parents' bravery but also Finnick's. I heard his witty comments; when he flirted with mom, when he teased dad and I was once more overwhelmed with the rage of never having met him.  
I take a deep breath and try to once more calm down the tumbled feelings inside me.  
I basically know about everyone who's been in my parents' life. Except for one person.  
Gale Hawthorne.

Mom's long lost best friend, who's also a guy.  
I notice how she and dad always tense up when I bring him up – which naturally, only makes me want to know about him all the more.  
All I've managed to squeeze out of them is that he used to be my mom's hunting buddy and best friend. I have my suspicions of that he was more than a best friend but I haven't gotten that confirmed yet.  
Once I asked mom what he looks like. She actually smiled a little bit. "Well, at the time he had the same tone to his skin as mine. His eyes were gray, like mine, and his hair was black, like mine. People who didn't know us would mistake us for siblings and we never told them otherwise. That's why we managed to be 'cousins' in the public eye during the Rebellion." She went silent. "But they always made a note that he was more… handsome. He got a job on TV due to him playing such a big role in the Rebellion, but being attractive definitely did him good. They could have gotten Peeta. Or Haymitch. But Peeta's too scarred from the fire and Haymitch… well, Haymitch is too wasted to say his name."  
I laughed at the dirty look he cast mom.  
He comes to visit every now and then with a bottle of liquor accompanying him.  
Despite his sarcastic manner, I love him. And even if he won't admit it, I think he loves me, too.

I stretch my arms above my head and yawn.  
I was supposed to go out with Finnick and my little brother, Cinna, to hunt, but I couldn't bring myself to get out of bed. Even when Finnick himself stepped into my bedroom and raised an eyebrow at me. It struck me just then how much he looked like his dad, and I froze, staring at him. Of course, he interpreted it the wrong way. "I know I'm gorgeous, but it's rude to stare, Ignis."  
Even his personality reminded me so much of his dad that I smiled. It occurred to me that in a way, I had gotten to know Finnick – through his son. And of course, through aunt Annie.  
"Don't flatter yourself. I was just staring at the huge zit on your forehead." I wasn't. Finnick never gets zits.  
"_Please_." And of course, he knows this.

Suddenly the door rings and I groan. Dad's painting and my mother is in the balcony, singing. I could hear her all the way in. It's such a pleasant voice singing words that were forbidden to utter.  
Thanks to her, they no longer are.  
I throw the covers away from me and stand up.  
_  
__Are you, are you coming to the tree?__  
__Where they strung up a man they say murdered three__  
__Strange things did happen here  
No stranger would it be  
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree_, my mom sings.

When my parents are doing what in their eyes are their only escape from their gory memories, there's no disturbing them.  
So I walk down the stairs to open the front door.  
I look through the magic eye and frown at the man behind it.  
When I was old enough, I understood that District Twelve is over- populated because the Girl who was on Fire and the love of her life lives here.  
But despite the people here, it's such a small place, you can't help but know everyone.  
I do not, however, know this man.

I decide to open the door anyway, and if he attempts anything, then mom and dad have taught me every piece of self-defense they know plus the little more I've learned myself.  
The man is dressed in clothes a bit more formal than what's common here in District Twelve. He's taller than dad – hell, where dad is day, this guy's night.  
His hair is dark – black – and his eyes are dark too, but from this distance I can't make out the exact color. His skin is olive- tinted, like mine but he's gotten a bit more sun than I have.  
And he's staring at me.

By now, it would have been appropriate to mention his name, say what he's doing on our porch.  
Then a thought hits me; what if he's Avox?  
Dad told me about his and mom's encounters with three people who were slaves with no tongue. Literally.  
But then the man swallows and I notice there is nothing strange about it. "I'm sorry. Who are you?"  
He shakes his head a little bit, so little that it's barely noticeable, and looks down at his shoes, then back up at me. "I'm looking for… Katniss. Or Peeta?" He says, addressing my parents by their first names. I notice how deep his voice is and try not to grin at it.  
I don't fail to notice how gorgeous he is. He's old enough to be my dad, I know, but he's just one of these older men you can't help but find attractive. And this one most definitely is.

That's when my suspicions set in. _It can't be…_  
I notice all the similarities from what I've heard but I don't draw any conclusions. Not yet.  
"Mom!" I don't look away from him and seeing me studying him, he tries to mask his reaction at the word.  
Not good enough for me, though.  
"Who is it?" Mom yells, her voice more distinct while she approaches us. Her eyes are on her computer that is the size of her palm when she enters the hallway.  
The man, whose broad shoulders fill out the doorframe, turns rigid at the sight of her and I turn to see her reaction just as she looks up from her computer.  
Now, it's her time to freeze up. I'm half- expecting her to drop the thing from her hand but she manages to hold onto it.  
For a moment there is nothing but absolute silence – it's as if sound just suddenly ceases to be.  
No chirping, no wind – it's so silent I can hear my own pulse.

I can't turn away from mom's face to see how the man next to me is reacting; she has me hooked. It's like her face can't settle on one facial expression; anger, hurt, love and betrayal, hatred and sorrow, happiness and yearning. It's such a tangle of emotions that interpreting them exhausts my mind.  
And the second before she speaks, my suspicions are confirmed.  
"Gale."


	2. Chapter 2

**First off, I really have to say I appreciate the reviews I got - thank you _so _much.**  
**Now, I know this is really short - that's because I've only had 14 hours of sleep these last four days ****and am fighting my eyelids as we speak.**  
**Hopefully, tomorrow's will be longer.**

**_Enjoy,_**

Gale Hawthorne doesn't respond but his face says a lot more than words ever can.  
The silence stretches on; this isn't the complete and utter silence my mother broke when she spoke his name. This is the type of silence when there is so much to talk about, you don't know where to begin.  
It's not awkward; it's filled with something; it makes the air I draw into my lungs feel heavy.  
It's filled with unspoken words, repressed feelings and unrsolved battles.  
Something is telling me I'd better walk up to my room, but a minor part of me is encouraging me to stay. If this volcano this silence feels like is about to erupt; I want to be present.

"Katniss!" Mom gives a small jump at the sound of her name. "Have you seen any red paint?" Dad continues to ask. I am quick to watch the reaction of Gale Hawthorne – his eyes are on his shoes but there is a smile on his lips, if a small one. I can't decode it but something tells me it's not of the cheery kind.  
My dad's first focus when he descends the stairs is Gale Hawthorne. His eyes widen in surprise as he takes in the big man beside me and then as if remembering himself he throws me a quick glance and puts on fake smile. Something that my parents are very aware of is that I'm not one to believe words, but body language. Words lie. Expressions don't. "Gale?"  
Gale Hawthorne's smile is not one of sincerity either. "Peeta. Long time no see."

Heavens. Do they really think they're fooling me? I know Gale Hawthorne is simply playing along, not knowing what for, but my _dad_ – does he really think I'm that easily tricked?  
Dad nods once, the smile slowly fading away.  
Gale Hawthorne keeps glancing at mom but she has her eyes cast downwards; it seems as if she's murmuring something but I'm not sure what.  
When no one speaks, I heave a sigh and all the three of them are suddenly giving me their undivided attention - anything to break the silence. Adults. "Why don't you come into the living room, Gale?" I ask.  
He simply nods. It's not until he takes a step closer to me that I notice how tall he really is and again, I'm finding myself fighting against the grin of appreciation.

I walk through the hallway, past the kitchen where he pauses for a split second then continues forward to the living room.  
He sits down on the couch against the wall and I take the seat in front of him.  
I know that he feels my eyes on him, scrutinizing his clothes, analyzing his scars – trying to come to a conclusion of what kind of person he is.  
He gives up after two minutes. I'm not saying that he speaks. No. _He _starts watching _me_.  
In a way, I'm finding this a tad bit annoying. I have, out of experience come to believe that silence is the best way to make a person crack. Gale Hawthorne proves to be resistant.  
_He's strong minded._

When another handful of minutes tick by, he speaks. "How long is this going to take?"  
I lean backwards in my couch. "You still hunt."  
He tilts his head slightly to the side. "That's not a question."  
"No." I hold out my right hand – palm up to him. "That's from the bowstring." I point to the scars on my fingertips. "You've got those, too. But yours are deeper since you've been doing it for longer than I have." I drop my hand. "You also have dirt under your fingernails, which is quite impressive since they're so short. And your hands are rough, so I'm thinking it's not only bows and arrows but something else too."  
He smiles, this time genuinely. "Snares."  
I lean back in the couch with a slight nod but don't answer his smile. I notice, however that there is something about it that transforms his entire face.  
I figure he comes off as the dangerous, unbreakable guy - but with a smile softening his features, he seems more... gentle. Capable of understanding. I find myself wishing I knew him.  
When he doesn't get a response, his smile slowly widens until he chuckles. "I thought it was only looks you had in common with your mo – with Katniss."  
I act like I didn't notice the slight hesitance. "What makes you think otherwise?" I ask him.  
He studies me, the smile still stretching his lips. The wish intensifies. He shrugs. "Never mind."

I'm about to repeat my question when my mom enters the living room. Dad's nowhere to be seen. "Ignis. I need to – I need to talk to Gale."  
I glance at Gale and see that his smile has vanished. His eyes are on his entwined fingers.  
Without a word, I walk out of the room but I don't walk up the stairs; I don't go into the kitchen or walk outside. Instead I open the door to the storeroom just beneath the stairs and slip in. There is only a thin wall separating this room from the living room and every sound is audible; which means I have to be as quiet as they should be.  
This volcano is about to erupt and I want to hear every word.


	3. Chapter 3

**So sorry this came out so late. Now listen. Some of you may be a little let down by this - there was such a build-up that this might a disappointment.**  
**It's just that it didn't feel right to have Katniss throw herself in Gale's arms or have her hit and shout at him. Keep in mind that she hasn't seen him for twenty-four years.**  
**It's a shock to even see him - not to mention, aged and all - that what he has to say has to take time to settle for her.**  
**I think next time they meet it'll be more intense. Gale's confession might have sunk in a bit more. Maybe next time she can look at him and have the calming feeling of familiarity.**  
**I honestly don't know - but that's what I think.**  
**I could however use the back- up - if there's anything that you feel isn't right, please, tell me.**

_**Enjoy,**_

I leave the door open an inch and sit down by the wall shared with the living room.  
"Ignis – fire." Gale says. "Figures."  
"It's Latin." Mom responds.  
"I know."  
Why does it figure? The first thing that comes to mind is my mom's nickname; the Girl who was on Fire. Is that why she named me Ignis? A reminder of who she was? Who she is?  
I sigh at the newly raised questions. Will they ever stop coming?

They don't talk anymore and I find myself wishing there was a hole I could look through; see if they're staring at each other or refusing to meet each other's eyes.  
"Why are you here, Gale?" Mom finally asks.  
The question isn't meant to be casual. She's demanding to know what he's doing here. But why is she asking this? They were best friends. Doesn't she miss him? They haven't seen each other for over twenty years. There is something more here between them – my first guess had been that they had grown apart. But this is more.  
"I wanted to tell you that the bomb–" Gale breaks off. "It wasn't mine."  
Definitely more.

"What do you mean it wasn't yours?" She asks. It's like his declaration shocks her – she wasn't expecting this.  
"I didn't kill Prim, Katniss."  
Oh, crap._  
_"What?" She pauses. "No."  
"Katniss –" Gale starts.  
"No, stop. Don't do this. The bomb was yours." She says, her voice stern. But something tells me it's herself she's trying to convince.  
"Look, just let me explain. The bombs that day were Beetee's own inventions – he needed my help to modernize them, make them more useful. But we had used up all of them that day when we ambushed the Nut in Two – that's what's been killing me ever since, Katniss. I knew there was nothing left – only the old ones. Those are the ones Coin used." He pauses. "It wasn't my bomb."  
"Why are you doing this?" Mom whispers.  
Wait – whispers? How am I hearing this?

I look up and see Haymitch standing by the doorway, the door open widely - wide enough for me to hear more clearly.  
Somehow I can't help but notice there's no bottle in his hand.  
"What are you doing here?" He asks.  
"Shh!" I hiss, furiously. I grab his hand and pull him down beside me. "Gale's in there. Gale Hawthorne."  
He freezes. "What?"  
"Gale Hawthorne is in the living room. Now shut up and listen." I whisper as low as I possibly can.  
Maybe the man is in his sixties and I should be a bit more respectful but… well, it's _Haymitch_.  
"And close the door." I tell him.  
Then we sit in silence and listen.

"… you to know the truth. What kind of question is that?" Gale asks.  
"What is he talking about?" Haymitch murmurs.  
"Prim. Bomb." I whisper, curtly and return my attention to the conversation.  
"Ah…"  
"It's been more than twenty years, Gale. Why now?" Mom asks.  
"I just found out. Coin kept a journal – wrote about how she couldn't find any of the bombs I designed with Beetee and had to take whatever was available." He explains. "Why are you like this? I thought this would be good news to you."  
Mom doesn't answer. I sigh heavily and meet Haymitch's eyes. I would give anything to be in that room right now. See the positions of their stance – is Gale standing up in defense? Is mom sitting down in defeat?

"I let the dust settle, Gale." She says, finally. "I convinced myself and accepted that you had killed her. For the past twenty-four years it was impossible for me to think of Prim and not of you – this just… it's making me remember, Gale. It's making me remember those days with such clarity. Boggs ordering me to say my name into the Holo, Finnick's screams when the mutts killed him –" She breaks off. "The burning heat on my face from the explosion that set her on fire…" She finally says.  
Gale doesn't say anything first. "I'm sorry… I didn't think of it like that. I just thought –"  
"But how can I forgive you for the rest?" Mom breaks him off. "How can you tell me that all those people in the Nut weren't going to surrender that day? Can you tell me that all of them were evil – the fathers, the sons, the brothers, the husbands."

Again he's quiet. "Why are you – here I come with the news that _I _didn't kill your little sister and you find another way to make me the bad guy – come on, Katniss."  
"Even if it wasn't your bomb that killed Prim, you killed the people in Two. It was your idea; _that _was your bomb. It might as well have been our fathers' in there; choking, gagging, dying." Mom continues.  
"They killed the kids and women in Eight, wiped Twelve out of the map, threatened everything that was dear to you; me, Prim, Peeta, your mother, made us fight every day for things that were handed to them on a silver platter and you're accusing me for killing a handful of _them?" _He pauses. "_Katniss_." It's like he wants her name to snap her back to reality; as if he wants her to see the logic in his words.  
"You don't regret it." Is the only thing she says.  
"Damn right, I don't." Gale tells her.  
"How can you be so –"  
"So what?" Gale demands.

"So ruthless?" Mom finally says.  
"Ruthless." He snorts. "I'm not ruthless – I'm fair. Eye for an eye, Katniss. And even so – we lived under the Capitol's reign for countless years. They were sitting there eating their fancy cakes, watching children getting murdered; one after the other – addressing it as the best entertainment possible and reminding us who the real boss was. Do you want to count all the dead, Katniss? The starved, the dehydrated, the tortured, the children, the women, the men, the sick, the healthy, the poor, the helpless, the strong, the weak, the old, the young – if there is anything justifying what I did that day, it's that."  
Gale starts walking towards the door and I hold my breath and meet Haymitch's eyes. I put a finger to my lips. "I'll be in town for four days – there are things I need to get done. You know where to find me." He pauses and then I hear a slap. It's not the sound of hitting flesh, it's something else. "That's Coin's journal. Feel free."  
Then he walks out the door and through the hallway. I hear the front door opening and then closing on its own.


	4. Chapter 4

**So, so, so sorry this took such a long time.**  
**Senior year is not easy.**  
**I just want to take the time to ask you to listen to Justin Nozuka.**  
**In case you listen to soul or are very open to music.**  
**He's an absolute genius.**  
**Anyway .. **

**Enjoy,**

I sigh.  
"My legs are about to fall asleep." Haymitch whispers.  
I look at him and smile. "Fine, just one sec."  
I stand up and open the door carefully. I check and see mom sitting in the couch with her face in her hands. I gesture at Haymitch to get out of the storeroom and then we go into the kitchen.  
"Mom!" I yell when I'm there. "Haymitch's here!"  
She doesn't answer.  
"You realize I'm too old for this sneaking around crap, right?" Haymitch says.  
I chuckle. "And too drunk."  
He sighs and leans again the kitchen table. "It's starting to wear off. You don't happen to keep anything alcoholic in here, do you?"  
I shake my head at him.  
"Lovely."

We stay quiet for a while; I heave myself up on the counter and cross my legs as Haymitch goes over to the chairs and sits.  
I try to mull over why mom responded the way she did. What I've gathered so far is that Gale worked on bombs together with Beetee and mom suspects – suspected? – that it was those bombs that killed her sister, Prim. But now it's clear that it wasn't his bombs. So why isn't she throwing her arms around him, relieved for the fact that it wasn't her best friend that killed her sister?  
I am almost certain that if her sister hadn't been killed that way they would have been best friends to this day; maybe more, but I'm not ready to make that assumption until I've had something at least hinting at it.

I sigh and lean my head on the cupboard behind me. Ever since I voiced the first questions about my parents' past; I realized they both were like a pair of sailor knots. Just as you untie the first knot, a second one appears.  
"Do you know Gale?" I ask Haymitch.  
"Not so much." He answers.  
I sigh.  
"I always associate him with your mother." He suddenly says. "There were times when I'd see him watching her, during the Rebellion. She meant a lot to him – he meant a lot to her." He shrugs. "I think of how it's possible they didn't end up together, sometimes. They probably would've if it weren't for your father." He says.  
I train my eyes on him. I suppose this is "hinting at it". "Are you saying they loved each other? Gale and mom? Like, more than friends."  
He meets my gaze. "I'm not saying anything – these are answers you should get from your parents, not from me." Haymitch rises from his chair. "I already have the feeling that I've said too much. I should get going."  
I smile at him and hop down from the counter. "I'm going to get some orange juice. Come with me?"  
"No, sorry. Gotta go get me some brandy."  
"Drunk." I mutter.  
"Brat." He retorts.  
I laugh. "I'm gonna go get some juice! Anybody want anything?" I yell.  
"Red paint!" Dad yells from his studio.  
My mother remains silent.

I walk out with Haymitch but after a wordless two minute walk we part ways.  
"You coming over tomorrow?" I ask him.  
"We'll see, sweetheart." He says.  
I kiss his cheek as and depart.

Could I fathom mom's relationship with Gale being more than friendly?  
I think I could. No, I definitely could.  
_"You know where to find me."_ He said to her. How could she possibly do that if he hadn't even mentioned where he was staying?  
It's a sign of how well they know each other. How profound their relationship really is.  
I sigh and look around me. Since the Capitol fell, all districts started receiving more money to spend and District 12 is now looking much better than it does in the history books, picturing it twenty years ago.  
When I'm out for a walk with mom or dad; they always point out spots where a shop used to be, where they first met, where the mine my mom's dad died in.  
Places and insignificant spots that the Capitol also managed to take away from them.

A breeze rustles the trees and the sun manages to spill some light through the leaves; the grass that flanks the forest is blazingly green and yellow specks of dandelions are scattered all over.  
The birds are singing a song my mother has memorized and the sky is as blue as it can possibly get.  
How could those people twenty years ago live without this?  
It's not even about the buildings they've built here in twelve, it's this. This nature. The only experience you could have gotten then would've been taking a trip to the woods.

"Ignis!"  
I turn my head to see Finnick jogging towards me.  
I smile at him as I take him in; the unruly dark hair and the blazing sea green eyes. "Hi."  
He returns my smile when he reaches me. "Hey. Where you headed?"  
I have to bend my head all the way to look up at him; the guy never stops growing. "Orange juice." I simply say.  
He laughs; a familiar sound that makes happiness bloom in my chest. "Of course."  
"You can have some if you want." I say and stretch myself up on my toes to put my arms around him.  
"Oh?" He murmurs, looking down at my lips.  
I smile. "Mhm."  
"Well… how can I possibly say no?" He mumbles, his lips so close I can feel them upon mine.  
Something bubbling up in my chest reaches my lips and I laugh. "You can't."  
He smiles and kisses me softly. "I'll be by your place in fifteen minutes, alright?"  
I nod. "Sure." I kiss him one last time and withdraw my arms.

I reach the new grocery store – something that was finished building six months ago – and walk in.  
I make a beeline for the cold drinks and spot a dark-haired guy looking at two packages of juice in his hands. He looks from one to the other and chews on his underlip.  
I walk up beside him but he doesn't seem to notice as I pick the package of orange juice I have drunk ever since this store opened.  
But I pretend to be reading the texting in the back when I'm just using it as an excuse to steal glances of the guy. He's wide shouldered and tall; almost as tall as Finnick.  
Standing closer to him than I was before I see that both of the packages are orange juice; just that they're two different brands.  
Suddenly he sighs audibly and starts counting silently; finally his eyes fall on the package in his right hand. He's just about to leave the one in his left hand when he hesitates and raises it one more time.  
Then he starts chewing his lip again.

I have to hold myself from laughing. "The one in your left is a little sweeter than the other one."  
He whips his head to my side and he smiles a bit apologetically. His eyes are a very dark blue; the kind of blue that colors the endless oceans. Not the non-frightening blue I inherited from dad. "I must've seemed crazy to you. I'm just…" he looks down at the packages in his hands, eyeing them, "torn."  
I chuckle. "Well, I've kind of tried all brands here. It's like they've pressed more than a few lemons in _Exotic_. I guarantee the other one."  
He eyes me in a way that sends electricity up my spine and makes me do everything I can to not make the blood flow up to my cheeks. His apologetic smile turns into something more… dangerous. "Then I guess it's settled." He says, his eyes suddenly boring into mine with intensity.  
Silence follows because I don't know what to say. The only one I've had looking at me like that is Finnick – but at least with Finnick, feelings are very apparent in these looks.  
This guy showed only mere lust.

I hold my hand out to break the silence. "Ignis Mellark." I smile at him and try not to show my uncertainty.  
His smile widens but stays the same dangerous one as he lays down the _Exotic _in the cooler and takes my hand. "Gabriel Hawthorne."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi again :)  
I uploaded a fanfic on the Georgina Kincaid series. Check it out if you're a fan of the series.  
I really have to explain something; time plot? It's not weird or anything.  
Thing is, in Mockingjay, Katniss never says exactly when Annie had her son neither does she say how old her daughter is when her children are playing outside.  
So I took the liberty of concluding the ages myself, and I admit, maybe Finnick is a bit younger than he's supposed to be, but sometimes all you need to do is simply write.  
And that's what I'm trying to do. I really appreciate it when I recieve reviews telling me what I'm doing wrong; such as how I write but the time plot? It's really not that important.  
Just like my way of formatting my stories. I live in Sweden; and this is the way we do it. Sorry. But just like I said before; it's nothing important.  
****Anyway; Please, I tell you to please listen to the Justin Nozuka Band. They're beyond epic.**

**Enjoy,**

I try my hardest not to react to his last name and smile at him. "Nice to meet you."  
I notice the similarities now; he has his father's build, that same air of confidence around him and of course, he's just as attractive.  
I realized while sitting in the living room with Gale Hawthorne what eye color he has; pure grey, almost dully so. But his son must have inherited the color of his eyes from his mother; they are anything but dull. They're… dangerous. You never know what you will find when you dive into the ocean; I think Gabriel Hawthorne would fit that same description – unpredictable. And dangerous.  
"Nice to meet you, too." He says and drops my hand.

I start walking towards the register desk, expecting him to follow which he does. "I don't think I've seen you around here. Did you just move to Twelve?" I ask.  
"Not really, no. My father is here for a business trip and asked me to come with him…" He shrugs. "I figured why not."  
"You're father doesn't happen to be… Gale Hawthorne?" I ask, cautiously. It's not that I'm not certain about the fact that his father is who I think he is, it's just that I want him to be aware of that I know.  
Gabriel turns to look at me, frowning. "How did you know?"  
I smile at him and chuckle. "How can I not? His name is down in the history books. He's the one who blew up the Nut in Two during the Rebellion."  
His expression eases up into a smile and he nods. "Right. I suppose he's more famous than I thought."

I think of telling him about who my mom is, what her connection to his dad is but I decide to keep my mouth shut. I'll cross that bridge when I'll get to it. If I ever do.  
We reach the register and I wait for him to go on ahead of me. He smiles at me and gestures to me to go first."Ladies first."  
I chuckle. "Thanks." I half expect him to pull out four dollars and offer to pay for my purchase but thankfully, he doesn't.  
We walk out of the grocery store after that. "I'm going this way…" I point towards the road to my right.  
"Me too." He smiles. You'd think it'd be a nice what-a-coincidence kind of smile. It's not. "You don't happen to be…" He trails off.  
"In a relationship?" I smile up at him. "I am."  
Gabriel looks down at his shoes. "Well…"

The word 'sorry' is on my lips, but what do I have to be sorry for? I love Finnick. I'm not sorry for that. Hell, I remember having this huge crush on him when I was ten. He was fourteen and was still treating me like a kid. I remember thinking when it'd be appropriate for me to date him.  
I was very ready for it when I turned fourteen – he wasn't.  
_"Not yet, Ignis." Finnick says.  
My eyes start to water. "Finnick…"  
"Please," he exhales. "Don't make this harder on me than it already is. Please. Just wait a year. Maybe then."  
_Dad objected to it – of course – my mom told me to follow my heart and not care about what dad said. It was my choice – although she did agree with Finnick; I was still too young, not mature enough for a serious relationship.

_"Not a lot of days until I turn fifteen, Finnick." I say once the film we watched has ended.  
It had taken a lot of courage to say those words, but thankfully, they made it out.  
He sighs. "Ignis..."  
I can almost hear the words he's about to say but I don't speak.  
"I'm going on nineteen." He finally says.  
"Oh, for God's sake." I mutter.  
"I'm so much older than you. It wouldn't feel right." He continues.  
"It wouldn't feel right to be with me." I say matter-of- factly, my eyes on the running credits.  
He doesn't speak.  
__  
__"You know… they say girls are three years more psychologically mature than guys." I say.  
Still there's nothing but silence from him.  
"Which makes me a year less mature than you are… and that's – well, that's nothing." I shrug.  
Finnick sighs. He's done a lot of that lately. "It's – it's not just that."  
Fury somehow manages to seep through and I whip my head around to look at him. "Then _what_, Finnick?"  
He looks at me, a faint blush slowly making its way up to his cheeks. Well… that's a first. He drops his face in his hands. "Don't," he breathes. "Don't make me say it."_

"I… I honestly don't know what you're talking about." I stand up and go kneel in front of him. "Finnick."  
He drops his hands and tilts his head to the side. He raises his eyebrows at me.  
And then it clicks. "Oh! Oh_." I laugh. "Seriously?" I ask him.  
"It's not funny." His blush intensifies.  
____I laugh out loud. "Yes, it is."  
Finnick leans backwards in the couch and sighs.  
I lean forward and take his hands in mine, a grin still plastered on my face. "What about _sex_, Finnick?" I chuckle when he turns his head away.  
"I can't – _we_ can't. Not when you're so young." Finnick says.  
"Alright. So… how old were you again when you had sex the first time?" I put on my musing- face. "Fourteen, was it? Or –"_

"That's beyond my point." He says.  
I laugh. "Then what is _your point?"  
He sighs and meets my eyes. "I'd feel like a pedophile."  
"You're acting like I'm three years old, Finnick." I say. When he doesn't say anything, I sigh. "Look, I can wait for that." I tilt my head to the side and study him. "Unless you can't."  
He smiles at me. "Of course I can. I'm just afraid I won't be able to," he takes a deep breath and his eyes wander away from mine, "stop."__  
"You mean once things get… heated?" The thought sends heating sensations to my chest and my stomach is suddenly filled with butterflies.__  
__  
Finnick smiles slowly and looks at me. He doesn't answer my question, but with a smile like that, there's no need. "How about we do this;" I say trusting him to know exactly what I mean by "_this"_, "we don't sleep with each other until I turn sixteen. And if things do get _heated,_ I'll stop."_  
_But of course, being a guy, all Finnick gets from that is; "A whole year." He concludes. "With no sex."  
"Bravo, Einstein." I say, using the name of the ancient physicist. "You think you can do that?"  
He squeezes my hand that is in his and leans forwards until his forehead is on mine. "It's a small price to pay for you."_

He's kept his promise. Hasn't had sex with anyone – hasn't had sex at all. Which is pretty damn impressive for Finnick. And I've held my promise too, whenever he gets too carried away, I'm the one who gets to snap him back to reality – once with cold water.  
"Do you have a girlfriend?" I ask out of curiosity, hoping my question isn't to be misinterpreted.  
"No." He smiles but this time his eyes are ahead for which I'm grateful. "Had one not so long ago."  
"What happened?" I ask.  
Gabriel shrugs. "It didn't work out," he pauses. "But I suppose that's usual for kids our age." He glances at me and it doesn't take a genius to figure out that he means my relationship with Finnick might burst at any second.  
His words register and awake anger in me but I don't let it show on my face; I chuckle. "Well, I think it depends on a lot of things. Maturity, for one, is vital." _Something you clearly don't possess_. I glance at him summing up those words with a look.  
He laughs out loud, having gotten the message.

"And of course the willingness to make some sacrifices," I stop walking and he stops with me, that dangerous smile still on his lips. "You don't strike me as the type of guy who's willing to do that; if you're out with the boys, having a beer and a hot girl walks by, clearly wanting your attention – of course, you'll give it to her. You can't disappoint her because that'd mean, right?" I don't wait for an answer. "So you entertain her for a while; buy her a drink or two, flirt with her, compliment her – if she's real special you may even fool around with her for a while. But you don't sleep with her – that'd be taking it too far, for you. But your girlfriend would probably draw the line around… I don't know, buying her a drink?" I tilt my head to the side, still watching him. My words don't seem to have affected him in the least; or well, if you count the widening of his smile, then yeah. "I guess your girlfriend couldn't put up with that anymore – so she ended it."

Gabriel reaches out and wounds a strand of my hair around his finger; somehow I can't find it in me to swat his hand away. "You're good." He says.  
I draw my head back and the strand around his finger loosens and comes to rest next to my shoulder. "I know." I tell him.  
He straightens up and looks down at me through half-closed eyes. "See you around, Ignis." He starts backing away the way we came. "I really hope I do."  
"I thought this was where you were going," I point at the road ahead of me.  
Gabriel shrugs and turns his back to me, still walking. "So did I."  
I laugh out loud, catching the meaning of his words. He thought he'd get laid. My God, what a presumptuous bastard.

It doesn't take long until I reach home. "Finnick?" I call out when I've opened the door.  
"Kitchen." I hear his deep voice, confirming that he is in fact here.  
I was half hoping he wouldn't be here so that I could change my loose t-shirt to something nicer, but instead I ditch the stairs and take the hallway instead. I turn left and walk into the kitchen.  
Finnick's standing by the sink drinking a glass of water, his eyes closed. It looks like he hasn't had a drop of water in ten years.  
I smile and lean my shoulder on the door frame. Water has turned his auburn hair black and is still dripping from the shower he must have taken before getting here.

He looks good in his white tee and blue denims. Fashion wasn't something people put a lot of energy into here in Twelve when my parents were my age but now denims and tees with different prints are available to be bought. Which is pretty awesome.  
"Hey, gorgeous." Finnick says while putting the glass on the sink and turning to look at me. "Sorry, I forgot to drink some water at home."  
I laugh when he approaches me and wounds his arms around my waist. "How could you possibly forget that you were thirsty?"  
He smiles down at me, his eyes almost completely shut; one thing that I don't really like but that my friends keep insisting is cute is the huge difference between our heights. It's ridiculous.  
"That not what I said, right?"  
I laugh out loud.

How could I possibly be sorry about this? I ask myself thinking back about the apology almost making its way out in the company of Gale Hawthorne's son.  
I kiss him and don't pull away. Finnick's arms tighten around me and he carries me to the sink where he puts me down. I hook my foot around the other behind his back and put the juice cartoon beside me before I wind my arms around his neck.  
Finnick draws back but barely; I can feel his lip upon mine when he murmurs. "I should come here every day."  
I smile. "You should."  
"On the vow that you will always greet me this way." He says.  
"Cross my heart and hope to die." I murmur.  
"It's a deal, then." He says and resumes kissing me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi! I hope you haven't forgotten about Ignis and Finnick just about yet. It's been too long - I know. And I'll make that upp to you by this wickedly long chapter.**  
**It may seem that Ignis, Finnick and Gabriel are now the only focus but rest assured. They're not. Even I'm excited about what will happen when Katniss and Gale meet again. I have some ideas but I need to specualte some more.**  
**Anyway :)**

_**Enjoy,**_

"You done?" I hear Finnick calling from downstairs.  
I throw myself a last look in the mirror; eye the bouncy, dark curls and my light make-up, the black, fitting high-waisted jeans and the loose jersey that rides up my hips to reveal my bare stomach everytime I raise my arms. I consider changing it for something less… sexy but finally decide against it.  
"Yeah!" I yell and walk out of my room. I turn left and walk down the hallway to descend the stairs.  
He's standing by the door in a white v-necked tee and a pair of worn out denims. His hair is as disheveled as ever and his eyes regard me with a quiet sort of intensity. Electricity courses through me. "You look…" Finnick trails off.  
"Cute? Pretty? Beautiful?" I ask before I take the step that puts me right up against him.  
He shakes his head and smiles down at me; a small smile, just a twist of lips and still it conveys so much it makes my heart skip a beat. "You look like that all the time." He murmurs. "No. You look hot." He says. "You look sexy."

I knew when we finally became a couple that he would bring me indescribable joy and a sense of belonging but it didn't cross my mind that he would provide me this sense of confidence – when he complimented me I _believed_ it whereas I wouldn't if it had come out of the mouth of my friends, or my mother and father.  
It doesn't take a genius to grasp that Finnick is gorgeous – the fair skin and the red hair that shapes itself after my fingers, his dark, strong lips and his mother's eyes that hide behind his long eyelashes; the hard lines of his body, the broad shoulders and his height; a body that could drive the ancient Greek gods to tears.  
To hear words like _hot_ and _sexy_ come out of the pretty lips of the one whom in my eyes is the incarnation of hot and sexy has that effect on me.  
"If you don't stop looking at me like that I'm afraid we'll have to reschedule our plans for tonight." Finnick murmurs.  
He isn't touching me but he might as well be and I find myself considering his proposal. That's when his phone rings. "I can ignore that." He whispers, his eyes half-closed.  
Oh, how tempting. I give myself the liberty to reach inside his jeans pocket, not breaking eye contact with him and watch him exhale. I grab his phone and take it out.  
_Brock_.

I flip the phone open and put it to my ear. "Hey. We're on our way."  
"You better be, love. We're waiting." Brock says from the other line.  
"Give us five." I say. "See you." I hang up before he has time to say anything else. "Can we do… whatever you have in mind when we get back?" I ask. "So that I'll have something to look forward to."  
"You and me both, then." He says and dips to kiss me fast and hard.  
I smile at him when he pulls back and take his hand.

"Where are you going?"  
I close my eyes and sigh. Siblings…  
I turn around to look at Cinna, my ten year old brother who's just descended from the stairs. His blond hair is wet from the shower he rarely pays a visit to and his scarred hands are stuffed in the pockets of his blue robe.  
Dad walks out of the kitchen still not having washed from when he'd been painting. There's an orange line on his forehead that fades just before it reaches his temple. "Oh, you're going out?"  
I nod and let go of Finnick's hand to go wrap my arm around Cinna's shoulders. "Yeah, dad." I look down at Cinna. "And when we come back, I'll put in a movie that we can watch. Your pick."  
He cranes his head, his grey eyes looking into mine. "Really?"  
I nod, smiling down at him. He might be a pain sometimes but he is the cutest thing ever. "And I'll buy you ice cream before we come back."  
He grins. "With sprinkles, right?"

"Right." I crouch and point at my right cheek. "I want a kiss here." He laughs and pecks me. "And here." I turn my head the other side; he pecks me there. He laughs when I wrap my arms around him in a crushing hug and cover his cheek with pecks, then I let go of him. There are red spots on his cheek from the laughter and there's still a grin on his lips. "Love you." I tell him.  
"Love you, too." He says.  
I walk up to Finnick. "Bye, little guy." He says to Cinna.  
"Bye." Cinna waves before he walks up the stairs.  
I open the door and wait for Finnick to go out but before I follow him, I call for dad.  
"Yeah, honey?" His face appears from the kitchen door.  
I look up the stairs. "How's mom?" I'm fast to catch the clouding in his eyes before he smiles at me.  
"She's fine. Just a little shaken up."  
I nod and wave at him. He waves back. "Have fun, honey."  
"Thanks, dad."

I walk out and catch up with Finnick, slipping my hand into his.  
The walk to the local bar was a slur of laughter and whispers of naughty promises that most people would gasp at; of a dark sky and glistening stars and yellow lights; of jealous glances at me and desired looks cast at the man holding my hand.  
We open the door to the bar laughing hard.  
I see Brock and the others sitting by the table laughing and clinking glasses with each other in the back. "Brock!" Finnick calls getting the other guy's attention. He waves, acknowledging our presence as we make our way through the crowded place. People are screaming and talking, the lights are dimmed and the bottles of liquor lined up against the wall behind the bar glisten, the scent of sweat mixed with perfume and alcohol is almost suffocating but I figure I'll get used to it soon.  
The jukebox plays a song that makes people whether they're drunk or not move to it and I feel an urge to join them. Maybe I can later.

We reach the booth where our friends are and we greet each other with hugs and kisses before I slip into the booth. Finnick remains standing by the table, laughing at Jared's joke. He kisses my hair still chuckling. "I'm gonna go get us some drinks. Orange juice?" I look up at him, nodding. He gives me a damp kiss and disappears.  
"Wow, you are just perfect together." Casey says, leaning over the table towards me, squeezing her breasts together which suddenly gets Brock's and Jared's attention. Not that Jared hasn't seen it before seeing as how they've been going out for some time now.  
I laugh. "Thanks. How are things with you two?" I point at Jared, sitting beside her.  
He wraps an arm around her and draws her back. "Amazing." He says.  
Casey looks up at him and gives him a kiss that makes me widen my eyes and turn away. Julia who's sitting beside Jared meets my eyes. "It's crazy; imagine putting up with that _all the time_." For being Jared's twin sister they don't look much alike. Her hair is colored ink black giving off a blue shine wherever the dim lights touch it. She's cut it in a bob in she looks gorgeous in it. Whereas his hair is its original chestnut brown; the only thing they have in common is the green cat-like eyes and the sun-kissed skin.

I laugh. "It'll go over."  
"_Please_." Servilia laughs, from where she's sitting next to Julia. "You and Finnick have been together for months now and it still hasn't passed for you."  
Brock chuckles, rocking me with his laughter. He throws and arm over me and draws me closer to his chest. I'd grab his wrist and twist it if he wasn't more like a brother than anything to me. "Back off, Blondie." He says referring to Servilia's long blond hair.  
A tall glass with orange liquid is set in front of me and I look up to see Finnick holding his own glass. Something on the rocks – don't even ask me what it is. I'm clueless when it comes to liquor.  
"Scoot over." He smiles down at me and I oblige. "Hands off, man." He tells Brock, jokingly.  
Brock raises his arms in surrender, laughing.  
He sits down beside me and puts a hand on my thigh – not in a sexual way, just a way to confirm others that I belong to him. Something warm kindles in my chest and I straighten my back to kiss him on his cheek. His hand tightens.

"I wanna dance." Casey tells Jared.  
"Let's go," he smiles down at her as she stands up.  
"I like your dress." I tell her, referring to the spangled black dress that covers her from chest to mid-thigh.  
"You wanna borrow it?" She yells over the noise. "I'm sure you're man would love it on you."  
I laugh along with Finnick. "Sure!" I yell.  
Jared, having stood up wraps an arm around Casey's waist and whispers something in her ear. She laughs. "Be right back." She says, waving, and they continue off to the dance floor.

I notice the way Servilia eyes Finnick and I feel the anger tingle. She's not allowed to look at him like that. She watches him with her blue eyes having but enough to make-up to make her eye lashes look like a handful of clumps. I don't like her. At all.  
I turn around to look at Finnick, deciding to make the best of it. "She's looking at you," I whisper.  
He looks down at me, putting his lips a mere inch away from mine. "And I'm looking at you."  
The anger is suddenly blown away as if it has never existed. "Yeah." I murmur.  
His thumb strokes my thigh, reassuringly. "Don't let her get to you."  
"I'm not. It's just…" I trail off.  
"I know." He presses his lips to the tip of my nose. "Believe me."

I raise my eyebrows at the innuendo. "You do?"  
He turns away and nods at the bar. I follow his gaze and for a second I don't understand what he's indicating. Then I see him and my heart skips a beat.  
He's wearing a black long-sleeved tee that's clinging to his broad shoulders in a way that reveals his strong shoulder blades. He's sitting by the bar, a glass of something in his hands and even if his back is to us, his head is turned towards our table, watching me.  
He winks and I feel Finnick tense up. I revert my eyes to him. "I know who he is." I tell him, trying to tune out the sound of Servilia's loud laugh.  
He turns to look at me. "What?"  
"I met him today in the grocery store. His name is Gabriel," I take a deep breath. "Hawthorne."  
Finnick's eyes widen. "Hawthorne? It's familiar."  
"I know. Gale Hawthorne is his father; mom's best friend, you know. The guy who blew up the Nut in Two." I explain.  
"Right." His eyes clear from confusion. "I thought his father lived in Two."  
"Well, he does. But he's in Twelve for something and he brought his kid along." I tell him.  
Finnick looks at Gabriel. "Well, he sure ain't no kid." He meets my eyes. "How do you know all this?"  
I draw a breath. "His dad came to my house today, after you left with Cinna."  
He frowns at me. "Alright. We'll talk about it when we get home."  
I nod, relieved.

"What are you two lovebirds talking about?" Servilia asks.  
I turn to look at her and smile sweetly. "Well…" I chuckle and look up at him and he smiles, not just to play along but because he catches on what I'm doing.  
Brock gags. "For fuck's sake, guys."  
Finnick laughs and strikes up a conversation with him about when he's going to get himself a girl.  
I throw a glance at Servilia; it's a surprise her eyes aren't on literal fire from the glare she's giving me.  
I smile at her and grab my glass to take a gulp of the sweet orange juice. I really couldn't care less about her jealousy; not when Finnick's hand is on my thigh spreading heat and when Gabriel is in the same room watching me. I can feel his eyes on me and it takes everything in me not to meet them.  
"When was the last time we went shopping?" Julia asks and there's something in her voice that makes me think that she's noticed Servilia's death glare.  
I chuckle. "Too long ago. You free tomorrow?" I ask her.  
"Hell yeah." She turns to look at Servilia. "You?"  
She smiles and tilts her head to look at me. "Yep."  
"Hopefully Casey is too. I'll tell her it's just us girls so that he doesn't bring Jared." Julia rolls her eyes.  
Servilia, not having moved her eyes away from me, says; "Then Ignis can't bring Finnick with her."  
"Of course not." I shrug. "We'll just hang out when I get home." I say, wanting to rub it her face.

"Oh my God!" I hear a girl's voice say.  
I turn to see Casey and Jared on their way towards us and catch a glance of Gabriel; it's a relief to see that he's attention is directed elsewhere – on the blond girl with the plunging neckline. "Hey!" I yell, greeting the couple and deciding I'm going to ignore Gabriel Hawthorne throughout the night. When they slide inside the booth in front of me I see how sweaty they are. "Did you have fun?"  
"Hell yeah!" Casey yells, wiping a hand over her damp chest. "Why don't you two go?" She asks pointing at me and Finnick.  
I look up at him and he meets my eyes. "Wanna dance, handsome?"  
He smiles down at me. "I'd be a fool to say no."

He slides out and takes my hand. I follow suit and walk through the moving bodies until we find a spot. He turns to look at me, his sea green eyes blazing in the dim lights and puts his hands on my waist. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull myself closer to him. I can't help but glance over Finnick's shoulder to find Gabriel watching us. Watching me.  
I return my gaze to Finnick's not wanting to think about Gabriel when I'm in Finnick's arms.  
"He's still watching you?" Finnick asks.  
"No," I lie, knowing what the truth would drive him to walking up to Gabriel and punching him in the face.  
"Good." He says and presses his lips to my forehead.

A new song comes, this one fast, with beats that course through your body. I smile at him. "I like this song."  
"I can see that." He says, looking down at where my hips are swaying.  
I blush and stop.  
"No. No, don't stop." He laughs. "Don't stop. I meant it as a compliment. You're a good dancer."  
I smile at him, resuming the hip-swaying. "Yeah?"  
"Yeah." He murmurs and dips low enough to kiss but doesn't.

After a while his hips start swaying in time with mine and his hands slide down to wrap around my hips but I can still feel the same restraint that I have, on him.  
I wonder when _the _song will come; the song that makes everyone jump up and simply _move_ and just when I think that it never will; it does.  
I jump and Finnick laughs, but I don't stop to laugh with him; instead I tighten my arms around his neck and draw his body closer to mine. His hand that are on my hips tighten and he pulls me even closer to him, so close I can feel every hard line of his body pressed up against me.  
His breath turns my lips damp and I want to kiss him but don't.  
Our dancing is suddenly on fire; my body flicks to the beats in time with his and I circulate my hips against him gently, taunting him. His intake is sharp. "Don't do that." He breathes.  
I chuckle, suddenly feeling bold and confident and out of control. "Why not?" I whisper and mimic the intimate movement this time in a wider, provocative circle.

He makes a low, rough sound in the back of his throat and his hands slide up, hot and intimate and slip under the jersey to caress the hot skin of my bare back. I pull in a fast breath and give in; I kiss him. It's slow and damp and deep and it makes the flare of fire inside me roar into something bigger, wider. It makes me demand more and I slip my hands from his neck, down his chest and around the rough fabric of his jeans to his hips. I press them against mine and there's no mistaking how aroused he is.  
He growls low in his throat and my body responds in a rather… primal way. I open my mouth wider to his kiss and my hands slip to cup him from behind, pushing him even closer to me; I move my hips towards him and he exhales sharply; not too long afterwards he imitates me and I gasp into his mouth. He shudders at the sound but doesn't stop his movements.  
The fire in me has escalated into something collosal and it's making it hard for me to breathe properly; it has my heart working faster than normal and I feel it hunger for more; something tells me that if I give it what it wants – I'll burst.

Finnick's hands slip down from my bare skin to my hips pressing me against him just like I'm pressing him against myself and draws back from the kiss to press his lips to the side of my mouth, my cheek, my jaw, my neck just before he trails back up to kiss me just behind my ear; right at that sensitive hollow and that's when I lose control.  
My hands go up to fist themselves in his hair and I feel everything in my abdomen tighten, tighten and I have to use up all my self- control not to scream right there in the middle of the crowd. Instead I let out a sound I had no idea I could make; it's slow and low and satisfied; in my daze I still manage to hear the low groan Finnick gives. I open my eyes when it passes and breathe hard, relaxing my hands as he settles his face in the nook of my neck.  
I check to see if somebody noticed what just happened and I see that of all people only one person did; Gabriel.  
He looks at me with a smile on his lips and a hungry sort of look in his eyes that tells me he _knows_.

I conceal the look of horror and embarrassment and pull back from Finnick's embrace.  
He looks down at me with heavy-lidded eyes and smiles at me; it's like he wants to say something but doesn't know how. I know because I'm experiencing the same thing. "I know." I say, smiling up at him.  
Silence between us ticks by and we're still; my hands resting on his chest and his resting on my hips. "You wanna go back?" He asks, finally.  
"Sure," I tell him. "I need to go to the bathroom first, though."  
"Yeah." He nods and smiles. "Me too."  
So we make our way through the crowd; past Gabriel and I can feel his eyes on me all the way. We walk into the hallway and with a last kiss he goes into the men's bathroom and I walk into the door opposite of it.

I do my business in the toilet booth; flush and walk out to stand in front of the mirrors. There's a woman standing next to me improving her make-up with a mascara brush and she smiles at me.  
I open the tap, smiling at her and push the button that produces soap which falls into my palm and look at myself in the mirror; the kohl is smudged and my sweaty hair is sticking to my forehead. I sigh and decide to wash my face, too.  
Just when I've bent down to get my face closer to the basin in order to rinse my face off I hear the door open and close; I figure it's the woman exiting. When I'm done rinsing, I straighten up and close the tap, blindly. If there's anything I hate, it's opening my eyes while they're wet. I reach for the paper towels and dry my face off. Sighing at the sensation of being clean, I open my eyes and look through the mirror at the person leaning against the wall, by the door, his arms folded across his broad chest.  
I gasp involuntarily and turn to look at Gabriel. He smiles at me; a smile of secrets and dark, wicked joy and reaches forward to lock the bathroom so that no one can come in. And so that no one can go out.


	7. Chapter 7

**I need to clarify something to you. I've been on a trip and that's why I haven't been able to upload anything. And to be frank, I had so much fun, Ignis, Gale and Finnick were the last thing on my mind. Sorry.**  
**Then there's the fact that I have what I call "the urge" - that means, the urge to write, one day out of three, for some reason.**  
**Doesn't mean that I don't like writing - on the contrary, I love it. But sometimes I'm too caught up with other fun things and sometimes I just simply can't bring myself to sit by the computer and write my ass off.**  
**Then, of course, there's the main reason; school. When I have tests to study for and essay's to write and researches to well, research - I can't really sit and dedicate my time to something that won't get me into law school.**  
**Anyway.**

**_Enjoy,_**

He points his thumb behind him at the wall separating this bathroom from the party. "So that was hot."  
I could have interpreted as a compliment for my dancing; but since I know he had seen the whole thing I decide against playing stupid. I remain silent and wonder how I'm gonna get out of here without having to deliver a kick between his legs.  
"Silent treatment?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.  
I lean back against the basin and mirror his posture; I fold my arms across my chest and raise an eyebrow at him.  
"Alright. So something tells me you haven't… been _intimate_ with that guy in a long time." Translation á la Gabriel Hawthorne; I know you haven't been fucking your boyfriend in at least over three days. "Or ever."  
I tilt my head at him, smiling. I give him the finger.

He laughs, deep and full; it echoes through the bathroom. He walks towards me, dropping his arms and I promise myself that I won't flinch even if he's so close I can feel his breath on my face.  
But he doesn't get that close; he's a step away.  
I meet his eyes, unflinching.  
Gabriel's smile fades when he looks at me; his hand moves up towards my face but stops and drops to his side. "I want to get to know you."  
Of all things I expected, this is _so _not it and therefore it's not very strange that I drop all my defenses and almost gape at him. "What?" I manage.  
He shrugs and looks past my eyes. "You're not like other girls I've met."  
I choose to tease him about it. "Yeah, not the type of girl who runs her fingers down you arm and asks if you could follow her home."  
He chuckles and meets my eyes. "Yeah."

"But if we're going to be friends, you have to stop giving me those looks." I tell him.  
He raises his eyebrows at me, fighting a smile. "What looks?" He knows _exactly_ what looks.  
"The I-want-to-fuck-your-brains-out-look." I tell him, bluntly.  
He tips his head backwards and laughs out loud. I smile, running my gaze down his long neck; it's all tendons and strength; his Adam's apple bobs as he laugh but not in that disgusting way, in that way that makes you want to press your lips against it.  
Gabriel's laughter fades and he looks at me; I avert my gaze from his neck to his eyes. "Fine." He says. But then he takes a step closer. "But what if it's true?"

I hear the challenge in his voice. "Then, I'm sure there's another girl who'd be more than willing to take my place."  
"No." Gabriel breathes. "I want you."  
I let my breath out in a rush as I notice how much closer his lips are to mine. I put a hand on his chest to push him back but all I can really feel is that deep line in the middle of his chest . "Stop." I tell him, fighting not to make my voice sound breathless. "I have a boyfriend."  
"So I noticed." He murmurs and takes a small step back.  
The space offers me some calm. "Then leave me alone. I don't have anything against being friends with you but that's as far as I will go." I tell him and hope to God that I can get out of the bathroom and into the safety of the crowd and the loud music pumping from the other side of the door.  
Gabriel eyes my face and I try not to cave under the pressure his dark eyes have on me. "I'll leave you alone on one condition."

I raise my eyebrows at him, questioning.  
He smiles. Or, well. Smirks. "One kiss."  
I widen my eyes on him. "Are you serious?"  
He tilts his head to the side, the smirk on his face widening.  
"I wouldn't kiss you if you were the last person on earth." I tell him and take a step sideways.  
He chuckles. "Cliché. You couldn't come up with something better than that?"  
He's got a point. I just pretend that I don't acknowledge it. "Whatever. I need to go out to friends now. And you probably need to go back to Blondie."  
He raises a brow at me. "Jealous?"  
"Yeah. Yeah, okay. I'm very jealous. I'm anything you want; just let me get out." I tell him.  
"Anything I want? _Anything_?" Gabriel asks.

I simply stare at him. There's nothing I can tell him that he doesn't have a punch line to, so why waste my energy?  
"You should be careful with what you say, Ignis." He murmurs. Then he takes a step back finally allowing me a free path to the door.  
"Gee. Thanks for the advice." I head for the door but his hand on my wrist jerks me back.  
"One kiss and I'll leave you alone but until then I'll keep pestering you." He strokes my wrist with his thumb to show me what he means.  
"Yeah. Well. Good luck with that." I tell him and jerk my hand away from his grip.  
Then I go, unlock the door and walk out.  
"Stupid, presumptuous bastard," I mutter.

That's when I notice Finnick standing by the men's bathroom door. I turn to look at him and immediately all the anger and irritation I felt just a moment ago is gone with a breath.  
He pushes off the wall and reaches out to take my hand. "Who's the stupid, presumptuous bastard?" He asks me.  
I smile at him. "No one." I tell him because with him so close to me, Gabriel Hawthorne may be nonexistent. I raise his hand to my lips and peck him there. "Do you want to go home?" I murmur against his hand, my eyes telling him more than my words.  
Finnick raises an eyebrow at me. "If it's for the reason I think, hell yeah."  
I laugh and we start walking towards our friend's table, his hand still in mine.

"We're gonna take off." I try to make my voice heard over the roaring music.  
"Aw! Why would you do that?" Brock says, standing up.  
"You just got here!" Casey agrees.  
"I promised my dad I'd be home early. I'm sorry." I lie. "Plus, my brother is waiting up for us."  
"How is Cinna by the way?" Julia yells from where she's leaning over the table.  
I chuckle. "He's fine. You should come see him."  
"Oh, count on it. He's so much fun." She laughs.  
Fun because he has a crush on Julia and blushes like crazy whenever she comes within a ten foot radius of him.  
"Alright, enjoy the rest of the night." Finnick says, raising a hand in greeting.  
"Bye!" They all say in unison. Except for Servilia.


	8. Chapter 7 Alternative Chapter

**IMPORTANT!**  
**This is not a continuation to the previous chapter. This upload is how I originally wanted it to turn out between Ignis and Gabe when they were in the ladies, but later changed my mind out of pity for both Ignis and Finnick.**  
**Next chapter will probably be out this week, however I hope you understand why I'm always uploading them so late - studies will always come first.**

_**Enjoy, **_

He points his thumb behind him at the wall separating this bathroom from the party. "So that was hot."  
I could have interpreted as a compliment to my dancing; but since I know he had seen the whole thing I decide against playing stupid. I remain silent and wonder how I'm gonna get out of here without having to deliver a kick between his legs.  
"Silent treatment?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.  
I lean back against the basin and mirror his posture; I fold my arms across my chest and raise an eyebrow at him.  
"Alright. So something tells me you haven't… been _intimate_ with that guy in a long time." Translation á la Gabriel Hawthorne; I know you haven't fucked your boyfriend in over three days. "Or ever."  
I tilt my head at him, smiling. I give him the finger.

He laughs, deep and full; it echoes through the bathroom. He walks towards me, dropping his arms and I promise myself that I won't flinch even if he's so close I can feel his breath on my face.  
But he doesn't get that close; he's a step away.  
I meet his eyes, unflinching.  
Gabriel's smile fades when he looks at me; his hand moves up towards my face but stops and drops to his side. "I want to get to know you."  
Of all things I expected, this is so not it so it's not so strange that I drop all my defenses and almost gape at him. "What?" I manage.  
He shrugs and looks past my eyes. "You're not like other girls I've met."  
I choose to tease him about it. "Yeah, not the type of girl who runs her finger down you arm and asks if you could follow her home."  
He chuckles and meets my eyes. "Yeah."

"But if we're going to be friends, you have to stop giving me those looks." I tell him.  
He raises his eyebrows at me, fighting a smile. "What looks?" He knows exactly what looks.  
"The I-want-to-fuck-your-brains-out-look." I tell him, bluntly.  
He tips his head backwards and laughs out loud. I smile, running my gaze down his long neck; it's all tendons and strength; his Adam's apple bobs as he laughs but not in a disgusting way. In that way that makes you fight the urge to press your lips to it.  
Gabriel's laughter fades and he looks at me; I avert my gaze from his neck to his eyes. "Fine." He says. But then he takes a step closer. "But what if it's true?"  
He's challenging me so I don't back off. "Then, I'm sure there's another girl who'd be more than willing to take my place."  
"No." Gabriel breathes. "I want you."

I want to bring my defenses back up again; I want to put the face of arrogance on my face, I want to twist my lips in a sign of amusement but with him standing so close to me, I _can't_. I'm attracted to him, I realize. Like really, really attracted to him. And I do want him to want me.  
I haven't felt this way since Finnick. Nobody has desired me like this because I've been Finnick's. Gabriel is the only one who's dared.  
He kisses me and I don't hold back. I can't. My brain is shutting off and my body is taking control; it wants this. Every primal instinct I've ever had, every carnal desire I've ever felt is screaming at me to deepen the kiss, wrap my arms around him, shed his clothes, take my clothes off and be as close to him as I physically can.  
So I deepen the kiss and wrap my arms around him.

His kiss is different from Finnick's. Finnick's kisses are slow and damp and hot. Gabriel is the opposite; his kisses are fierce and hot and fast. But not bad. Not at all.  
He puts his hands on the bare skin of my waist before wrapping them around me and hoisting me up onto the sink. His hips push against my knees, parting them and fitting his body against mine.  
His hand runs down my thigh and then up; stroking my inner thigh in a way that makes me wish I wasn't wearing jeans; wasn't wearing anything.  
Fire explodes everywhere he touches me, everywhere his lips press onto my skin.  
His hand slides down my collarbone, over my breast to the skin of my stomach before tugging on the button of my jeans.  
That's when my thoughts penetrate the haze of desire. _No_.

I pull back from his kiss and cover his hand with mine to stop him. I breathe hard but don't speak.  
The type of guy he is would have tried to persuade me to go through with it; kissed me, touched me in a way that would have made me fold.  
But he doesn't. He slips his hand from mine and takes a step back.  
I meet his eyes. Once again I'm on the verge of apologizing but I bite my lip before the apology is out.  
He's supposed to be the one apologizing. I'm not free. He shouldn't have done this.  
Guilt gnaws at me and I try to push it away; I can't.  
Sure, he shouldn't have done this but I'm supposed to be the one to put a stop to it. What am I going to tell Finnick?  
_Nothing._

My guilt is suddenly heavier. He's never been anything but true to me; our whole relationship has been built on trust. How could I ruin that?  
I look up at Gabriel and find him looking at me. I jump off the sink. "What?" I snarl.  
He smirks. "You look like me the morning after."  
Damn it… I try not to make my face crumble in front of him as I realize what I have done. This is the guy I betrayed Finnick for. The type of guy who cheats on his girlfriend and lives on one night stands with girls whose names he forgets the second he walks out their doors.  
I betrayed Finnick who gave up what Gabe lives for just to be with me.

Without thinking I take a step forward and push him so hard he stumbles backwards onto the stall door. His eyes widen in shock as he grabs hold of the door knob prevent from falling.  
"If you _ever_ touch me again, I swear, I will break your hand," I tell him.  
Before I do anything I'll regret I walk out to find Finnick standing by the gent's waiting for me.  
I bite my lip before I start crying. Why didn't we just stay home like Finnick suggested?  
He runs a hand through his hair and smiles at me as he pushes off the wall.  
My façade buckles; what have I done?


End file.
